Monday 25 November 2013

Bringing up baby: "Dum(p) Truck"

In late September, I was fortunate enough to be read to by Tilly.

It was a lovely morning, and we had a very nice few minutes at daycare. It is one of my fondest memories.

Tilly picked a book from the communal basket, and indicated that I ought to sit down beside him on the couch. We settled in, and he began reading to me.

"Dum truck," he pointed to the picture of the yellow dump truck on the cover of the book.

He opened the book.

"Dum truck," he pointed to the picture of the hero of the story. It was a toy dump truck, being played with by a boy in a sandpit.

He turned the page.

"Dum truck," he pointed. It was a picture of a real working dump truck on a construction site.

"Dum truck." Turn page. It was a picture of a real working dump truck, with dirt being put into it.

"Dum truck." Turn page. It was a picture of a real working dump truck, covered by tarpauline, carrying dirt across the city.

"Dum truck." Turn page. "Dum truck." Turn page. "Dum truck." Turn page. "Dum truck." Turn page. These were pictures of a real working dump truck, working on various jobs.

"The end." Close book.

I am charmed. My ten minutes with him at day care had alarmed a few minutes ago. And I wanted to hear him read the book some more.

"Again?" I asked him. "Shall we read the book again?"

He beamed at me, and I smiled delightedly at him.

"Dum truck," he pointed to the picture of the yellow dump truck on the cover of the book.

He opened the book.

"Dum truck," he pointed to the picture of the hero do the story.

He turned the page.

"Dum truck," he pointed.

"Dum truck." Turn page.

"Dum truck." Turn page.

"Dum truck." Turn page. "Dum truck." Turn page. "Dum truck." Turn page. "Dum truck." Turn page.

"The end." Close book.

I am wistful, and saddened. I had to go to work. No more Dum Truck for me today.